Chapter Eleven Charlotte
Chapter Eleven
Charlotte
I’m so out of my depth and so turned on that I don’t even remotely know what I’m doing. So the moment Lucifer gives me the reins, I flounder. I gaze up at him from where I’ve knelt between his knees, like I’m his subject and he’s my king, but before he can tell me to stand, I feel myself move. I climb onto his lap almost instinctually.
I straddle him, facing him so that my ass hovers over his knees.
That fiery amber flickers in his eyes. “Nothing we do here leaves this room, and nothing changes when we leave. Do you understand me?”
He’s making me no promises. No guarantees. Except that come morning, we’ll both forget all about this. One night only, and then maybe I’ll have gotten whatever this crazy rebellion is out of my system.
It’s all the permission I need.
I settle myself onto his lap, and the pleasured groan he releases nearly undoes me.
“Don’t play innocent now, Charlotte,” he whispers, and my name on his lips sends a rush of heat through me. I feel myself slicken. “Be greedy.”
I do exactly as he commands, roughly shifting myself deeper into his lap, my skirt riding up around my waist, until the wet heat of my center rubs against his cock. I gasp. Even beneath the shield of his suit pants and the damp lace of my thong, he’s large and thick, likely more than I could take comfortably, but the thought of him inside me, dirtying me, is a cruel, tempting thing, and I feel more than a little breathless.
“Wicked, wicked girl,” he purrs. A smirk twists his lips. “If we fucked, would you call me Daddy?”
My eyes widen, humiliation gripping me at how he sees straight through me, to the trauma that brought me here. How many others have pulled this same stupid religious rebellion with him? The embarrassment nearly kills me.
Flushing, I shake my head and start to stand. “I can’t—”
“No.” He grips my face roughly, forcing me to look at him as he pulls me back down into his lap. “We’re not through yet.” He holds my gaze for a long beat. “You were made for this. For sin. Take what you came here for, what you need.”
I swallow hard, but temptation gets the better of me. I follow his command then, my gaze tracing from the subtle cords of his throat to his lips. It’d be so easy to take what I’ve been dreaming of since I first met him in his brother’s club the other evening, and I can’t stop myself from being a bit greedy, a little reckless even.
I surge forward, claiming his lips.
He kisses exactly the way I expect he would fuck, rough and penetrating—a harsh clash of tongue and teeth that stops my breath short. His mouth parts for me, and for a moment, as much as I’m enjoying myself, I think I might end it there, with just a quick taste, but then suddenly, his hands are on me, tangling in my hair as he growls. “Harder.”
At his command, I deepen the kiss, and he matches my intensity, his tongue sweeping over my lower lip to part me. He tastes of smoke and whisky, of dark promises and even darker sins, but I’m too caught up in my own desire to fully appreciate what I’m doing.
I’m kissing the fucking devil.
What would God think of me?
At the moment, I can’t bring myself to care. Lucifer’s kiss feels like a claiming, a new beginning, a harsh punishment against God for all the things His people did to me. The revenge and his lips are so delicious that before I know it, I find myself moaning, rocking my hips against Lucifer, desperate for him to be inside me.
The need is so strong that already my pussy pulses, inching me dangerously close to finishing as I grind myself against him, and for a brief moment, though I’ve never come with anyone else in the same room before, I think I may fall apart in his arms, if he lets me.
But Lucifer must sense the need in me, because abruptly, he grips a handful of my hair, pulling me back by the root of it to break the kiss between us. His lips are a little swollen from where I’ve claimed them, and the sight leaves me breathless, needy.
“Does that satisfy your curiosity?” His voice is lower than I’ve ever heard it before, filled with something I’d interpreted as desire.
But he was the one who stopped our kiss, and the realization that he may have only been doing this to tempt me, to save face with his brother, shocks me.
Suddenly, the damp feeling between my legs and my still erect nipples feel all wrong, though the answer to his question is obvious to both him and me.
It wasn’t enough. Not nearly.
My curiosity isn’t even close to satisfied.
Without another word, I extract myself from his lap, straightening my clothes, though I can tell from the smirk on his lips that it does little good. I look freshly fucked, and I nearly came all over his lap as if I was. All it took was his mouth on mine to do that to me.
How thoroughly could this man ruin me?
I’m in trouble. Big trouble.
Because I was wrong before. He’s not a danger to me.
I’m the danger. The way I feel around him is the true path to madness.
“My brother will appreciate your offering,” he says, his dark eyes spearing me.
“And you?” I ask. “Did you appreciate it?”
He laughs devilishly. “Run along now, little dove, before you do something to truly unleash me.”
I hesitate, but then at his dismissal, I turn and leave, rushing out of the club, only this time, that dark laughter doesn’t chase me, and I don’t have to wonder about all the things a mouth like his could do to me.
I know now, explicitly.
And it’s not nearly enough to satisfy.